


You could drag me through hell, if it meant I could hold your hand.

by MrsNotASheep



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Crime AU, Crimes & Criminals, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gang AU, Gun Violence, HE DOESNT UNDERSTAND OKAY, M/M, Mutual Pining, Organized Crime, Sexual Harassment, Smut, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, angst angst angst, brenda and gally and minho are in newts gang, chuck is thomas lil bro, ill add tags when i understand tagging, ima tag the smut once i write it, ive never tagged before i am sorry, like remarriage, lots of violence soz, newt is closeted, newt is second in command, newt is weak for thomas, newts dad is a gang leader, teresa aris fry harriet and sonya are in college w thomas, thomas is a college student, tommy is the most innocent thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-03-14 08:39:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13586394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsNotASheep/pseuds/MrsNotASheep
Summary: it didnt matter that he'd fallen in love with the devil. because the devil loved him back.newt's the son of the biggest gang leader in the city. he's second in command. a blood thirsty killer. a reckless criminal.thomas is a college student. he's studying english and sociology. he's never even gotten a parking ticket.the story of two boys fumbling through the darkness of love and crime ensues.





	1. Zero.

**Author's Note:**

> title from the bmth song follow you.  
> (i've never written on ao3 before i am anxious)

"Thomas O Brien?" 

A detective was standing in the doorway, a brown paper folder in his hand and Thomas felt his stomach turn. The man, brown in colour, tall in height smiled at him. He watched him warily, he’d never been very fond of the police. The detective stepped into the investigation room fully and closed the door behind him. Thomas watched as he came forward and sat in the metal seat across from his.

“Are your wrists okay?” He asked nodding to where his hands were held together by silver handcuffs.

“Fine.”

The man bristled at his tone and stretched back in his seat before opening the brown folder.

“So, Thomas,” He paused looking at him with piercing brown eyes before turning back to the folder and pulling out an array of photos. “Would you like to enlighten me on the contents of these photos?” He placed each of the photos down in front of him.

Thomas bit the inside of his cheek, shuffling in his seat. His stomach clenched at the bloody photographs in front of him. A room full of men, dead, beaten and tortured. He was glad to not have eaten in a while. He shook his head silently, feeling that if he opened his mouth he’d hurl.

“You don’t know what happened here?” The detective asked, sounding wholly surprised.

He shook his head again.

“Come on Thomas, you need to talk to me here. I know you know something, I can’t help you if you don’t help me.”

“I don’t know anything.” He lied, his teeth gritted together. He straightened his back his eyes locking on the mans, glaring at him. He was shaking, his words wavering as his fingers twitched where he was trying to hold them still.

“Real—“ The detective was cut off as the door to the investigation room opened. In stepped a blonde woman.

“We have something.” The woman said walking into the room and placing her hands on the table.

“He’s saying he doesn’t know anything.” The brown man replied, looking between Thomas and the blonde detective.

The blonde woman turned her eyes on Thomas who felt his blood run cold. The woman knew he was lying he could see it in her eyes, she wasn’t stupid she was a detective. Thomas took a deep breath his chest rising heavily and the woman cocked her head.

“Thomas, at this crime scene we found finger prints belonging to a man called Newt Sangster.”

Thomas shifted in his seat, and gulped.  

The blonde detective reached into the brown folder and pulled a mug shot of Newt out and placed it on the table. Dylan’s eyes flickered closed for the briefest of moments and apparently it was enough for the detectives.

“Tell us everything you know about Newt Sangster, his gang and his involvement with the murders.”

“I don’t know anything.” He spat his voice shaking.

The man glanced at the blonde with raised eyebrows. The blonde pursed her lips at Thomas and then rounded the table. He shrunk away from her.

“You don’t know anything about Newt Sangster?”

“No.”

The blonde woman nearly rolled her eyes and then yanked down the shoulder of Thomas’s t-shirt. Thomas cried out pushing away from the woman but she had a vice like grip on his shoulder. Panic was rising, they’d caught him now, there was absolutely no way out of this. None.

“You don’t know him?” The woman leaned down till her face was level with Thomas' a slight sneer painted on her features. “But this is his birthday tattooed on your collarbone, isn’t it? Just like yours is on him.”

Thomas whimpered and closed his eyes, shying away from the woman.

“You’re caught out Thomas. _Now tell us, everything you know about Newt Sangster, his gang and his involvement with the murders_.”


	2. One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is sonya basically kat mcnamara? yes, why yes she is.

 It was raining because _of course_ it was raining. And Thomas was late, because _of course_ he was. His class started in two minutes and he'd just reached campus. His skateboard rumbled under his feet as he pushed on and on. The Kodaline song Brother was pounding in his ears. He'd have to make the walk of shame to the front of the lecture theater when he got there. And he wouldn't get to sit with Teresa. Or play on his phone. God why didn't he just get out of bed earlier.

Thomas, stuck in his own head, trying to map out the fastest way to the building he was going to didn’t notice the sudden appearance of two boys in front of him and he went barrelling straight into one of them.

Thomas shrieked as he tumbled from his skate board, flailing his arms out and grabbing the arm of the boy he’d smashed into and he unceremoniously he dragged them both to the ground in a mess of limbs, grunts and a defined yell of _“Bloody Hell.”_

The boy he’d crashed into, landed on top of him. He was light, but bony and had no problem in elbowing Thomas’ ribs to manoeuvre himself upright.  Thomas froze as the boy landed both of his hands either side of Thomas’ head and fixed him a sour look. Even with a sour look on his face he was _attractive_. That was actually far too much of an understatement. Thomas’ heart was beating unbelievably fast and it definitely was because there was a super-hot stranger (who he was sure had yelled in a _British_ accent) lying on top of him and not because he’d just wiped out on his skateboard. He had soft (as in Thomas wanted to spend the next three weeks of his life just running his hands through it kind of soft) dark blond hair, deep brown eyes and he fucking looked like a pixie but a cute pixie and with the glare that was on his face a super-hot pixie. (Had Thomas already called him super-hot, woah he was super-hot). Thomas gulped.

British pretty boy hadn’t said anything, he was staring just as Thomas had been. The realisation that a) Thomas had definitely been staring and b) British pretty boy _was staring back_ caused Thomas’ cheeks to flood with colour. He felt his ears heat up too.

And British pretty boy in response to this, smirked. He smirked. Thomas could have died right there, both from embarrassment (like please could a hole open beneath him right now and swallow him whole) and from holy-shit-he’s-even-more-super-hot-when-he-smirks. Thomas could not deal with it.

“You okay man?”

Thomas only then remembered that there had been a second guy with British pretty boy. He blushed harder and British pretty boy’s smirk turned into a full blown grin.

“I’m just fine, not like I haven’t dealt with a million times worse.”

Thomas frowned at those words, wondering what on earth they could mean.

British pretty boy’s friend pulled him to his feet and then British pretty boy outstretched his hand to Thomas. Thomas took is tentatively. In the back of his head he was sort of (only a little bit he swears) hoping that maybe he’d feel some sort of spark when he touched hands with British pretty boy like what happened in all the books and movies. That unfortunately didn’t happen.

“Love to stay and chat but we’ve got work to do,” British pretty boy said brushing himself down as Thomas scratched behind his ear awkwardly. Thomas nodded mutely, not trusting himself to speak. It was as if British pretty boy could read his mind and he smirked _again_. “Just watch where you’re going next time Greenie.”

Thomas frowned at the nickname and the buff Asian guy standing next to British pretty boy snorted. Thomas’ eyes flicked to him for a mere moment only really taking in the fact that he could probably crush Thomas’ skull between his biceps.

British pretty boy realising Thomas’ confusion grinned and then reached forward tugging at the forest green Henley shirt he was wearing. He slipped his finger under the collar and then dragged his finger upwards to Thomas’ collarbone and Thomas shivered. British pretty boy smirked then, letting out a huff of air and then to add to Thomas’ embarrassment he winked and Thomas choked.

Before Thomas could further embarrass himself, or more so British pretty boy could embarrass Thomas any further the Asian clapped him on the shoulder and dragged him away muttering about specific times and how it didn’t look good to be late.

Thomas watched them go. His eyes locked on British pretty boy’s back. He had a certain swagger about him, a little bit of cocky arrogance that Thomas couldn’t for the life of him not admit to finding extremely attractive.

As they disappeared around the corner Thomas took a deep breath clearing his head. He turned on his heel, his eyes searching for his skate board. He ran to grab it glancing quickly at his watch and cursing at the time telling him that his class had already started.

///

“Thomas since when have you ever been late for Brendan’s lectures? You love his lectures, it’s like the one lecture you don’t spend fifty percent of the time on your phone.” They’d hardly stepped out of the lecture theatre before Teresa bombarded him with the question.

“I was running late okay.”

“Firstly you don’t run, and you were skating.” Aris cut in, nodding to the board in Thomas’ hand.

Thomas rolled his eyes, he didn’t really want to tell them about the incident with British pretty boy from earlier on. Not that he didn’t mind them knowing he’d wiped out, he’d done that plenty of times. Just as a rule if he ever mentioned a boy around them, they had heart attacks. It was like the minute he spoke to one he was suddenly going to marry him. In all fairness, Thomas had never dated anyone, hell he’d never kissed anyone, he understood why his friends wanted him to meet someone so bad. But he’d actually found this particular someone so damn hot and he knew he’d start blushing the minute he said a word.

“Harriet said you wiped out on your board earlier on and crashed straight into two guys!” Sonya leapt in front of him without warning, her hands grabbing his shoulders and her eyes wide with amusement.

Thomas jerked backwards away from her.

“Of course you did.” Teresa muttered softly.

“Didn’t Harriet have class all morning?” Aris asked.

“Yeah, but she was in the building next to where Tom wiped out and saw it all through the window.” Sonya said turning her eyes to Aris and nodding her head. She was walking backwards, her hands still on Thomas’ shoulders.

“Was he cute?” Teresa asked, jumping directly to the most important question.

“I don’t know?” Thomas lied, “I crashed into him I could hardly focus on not a) crying in pain and b) being completely embarrassed about it to focus on how he looked.” Teresa seemed a little sceptical with his answer but she only rolled her eyes.

“Really Tom, you could have had a perfect opportunity to practice your flirting skills.” She said apprehensively.

“What flirting skills?” Aris snorted.

Thomas raised his eyes to heaven as his friends burst into laughter.

“Hah hah very funny, now get in line and order your damn coffee.” He announced sarcastically, grabbing Sonya’s shoulders and spinning her around to face the right direction and shoving her towards the till at their most frequented coffee spot on campus.

They all ordered in succession, Thomas actually ordering a large hot chocolate with extra marshmallows (a sweet little please and flash of a puppy dog smile always worked wonders with the barista). He grabbed a large white chocolate chip cookie to go with his hot chocolate and paid last in his friends before he followed them to an empty boot at the end of the café.

“When’s Harriet out of class later on?” Teresa asked as he sat down, her question directed to Sonya.

“Six, it’s a Thursday it’s her busiest day.”

Harriet was actually studying something of merit, working towards a degree in engineering. Thomas on the other hand was doing English and sociology. English, just because he loved to read and tear it apart and dig into the meanings of things and he was always just so curious to find the deeper meaning of literally every single word on the page. And sociology because he wanted to understand society, and why people do things and why society is the way it is. Sometimes he thinks society is a little fucked up with how it works but he also understand that it needs some standards to follow.

“Okay so, we’ll head to mine at five thirty and order pizza – and yes Thomas a kebab for you, and we’ll start pre drinking around seven, because starting too early isn’t good and we’ll head into town at what? Ten?”

“Ten sounds good, it gives you girls enough time to do all the make-up.” Aris said nodding against the rim of his coffee cup.

“Hey, I don’t just wake up like this.” Sonya replied, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

“Don’t worry we know Son.” Thomas commented, Sonya scoffed at him and threw the plastic off her own cookie at his face. The others snickered around him.

Thomas understood why his friends wanted him to meet someone. He was in his second year of college, he was twenty years old. He’d never done anything particularly wild. He drank sure, nothing too hard, he liked vodka mixed with either cranberry juice or lemonade and if he was already drunk he’d do a shot of tequila but nothing much else. He’d never done any drugs. He’d tried a cigarette once and threw up after it. He’d never dated anyone, kissed anyone, and he’d definitely never had sex with anyone. It wasn’t like he hadn’t _tried_. Because he had, he had tried real hard. But not many people had been gay where he’d gone to highschool, and if they were they weren’t open about it. So he hadn’t had a lot of practice when he was supposed to get practice and when he started in college last year he had been too shy and awkward to try properly. He didn’t want to meet someone in a club and they try to make a move on him. He’d be the fumbling, awkward idiot who had no idea what he was doing and he’d be humiliated. But instead of a boyfriend, he’s got them, and he’s pretty glad about it.

He’d met Aris the day before term start back in first year. Thomas had fallen through the door to his dorm room, tripping over a box and not being capable of catching himself because he was holding two bags and another box in his hands. He’d landed on the ground with a shout and laughter had erupted from the inside the bedroom. Aris still claimed he’d made the best first impression ever.

He met Teresa next, he’d walked into her. His eyes had been locked on the map he’d downloaded onto his phone and he hadn’t really been looking where he was going. Which was rather counterproductive because how could he have told where he was going if he was looking at his phone? She’d somehow, wearing heels (not very high ones), managed to not fall over but Thomas did spill some of her coffee. But it landed on his arm and not hers and he just licked it off quickly so it didn’t burn him even though he hated the taste of coffee. She’d laughed at him too and asked where he was looking for. Turns out she’d also been looking for Brendan’s sociology introduction lecture and he had been going the wrong direction.

He’d met Harriet and Sonya last. And he didn’t fall or walk into either of them.

He met them on his second week of his first term. It had been society and sports day, where all the freshman got to sign up to everything the college had to offer. Thomas had signed up to a lot. The first thing he’d signed up to was the track team and he spent a good thirty minutes chatting to the captain of the team whose name was Ben and had seemed like a pretty cool guy at the time and still was a year and a half later. He’d also signed up to the board game and video game society. Music society because he could play the drums and the amnesty society. The art society because they gave him a free cupcake even though he had insisted that he couldn’t draw. The astronomy society because stars were pretty. The baking society because he’d always liked to bake with his younger brother Chuck. And he signed up the political debating society because Thomas had very strong views on what was wrong and what was right.

However he hadn’t met either Harriet or Sonya at any of these societies. No they were at the last stand he’d went to. The one he’d been most afraid of going to. Harriet was the director of the LGBT+ society and Sonya was the PRO (public relations officer but she thought the abbreviation sounded cooler). He’d been standing a view feet away, munching on the muffin he’d gotten from the art society, eyeing the stand warily. He hadn’t _really_ been out back home and no one from his old school had come with him here. So he wasn’t entirely sure why he was so scared but there he stood too afraid to go talk to them. He didn’t even need to sign up, he just sort of, maybe, only a little bit wanted to take a badge that he could hide on the inside of his jacket and wear it in his own secret way of being proud of himself.

But Sonya was having none of it. She was dressed in a pair of small black shorts, a white top with a little rainbow and the word ‘Revolution’ written under it and there was a pink striped, lesbian pride flag tied around her neck like a cape. The left corner of her shirt was adorned with badges. She had a rainbow painted on her right cheek and a pink heart painted on her left. Glitter was stuck to her cheekbones like highlighter.

She pounced on him, less like a lion and more like a little kitten who didn’t want to scare him off. She’d dragged him away from the little crowd that was gathered around the stands and over to corner and talked to him about the society and how they were more like a family. She wasn’t pushy, and she didn’t try to get Thomas to tell her anything either. Eventually she dragged him over to the table, her fingers intertwined with his.

Harriet’s first words to Thomas had been, “Aw did a little lost gay get caught up with the most vicious PRO in the world?”

Thomas thought Sonya was more of a little kitten not vicious but he could only stumble out a few unintelligent words to her in response. Eventually he signed up, writing down his name, email and student number with a shaking hand. Sonya then pulled him around the table and sat him down with her, handing him the bucket of lollipops and pulling a handful of badges towards them.

Though Sonya had been a year ahead of him and Harriet two years they took him in as if they’d known him their whole life. At the very beginning, Teresa had just been his lecture buddy who he could share notes with, and Aris had just been his roommate. But soon all five of them sort of mushed together and became one group. They all had other friends outside of the group but they were still like the _group_. They were all in the picture on Thomas’ cover photo on Facebook, basically.

And Thomas loved his friends, and he loved college so he sat back and joined in the conversation about the plans for tonight before he burst into full detail of how he was going to devour a kebab later on at about two a.m.

He was always excited to go out, maybe this time he'd be drunk enough to maybe actually kiss someone? He'd really like to get it over with soon. One of his honest to god biggest fears was to continue his life with a very non existent and lonely love life. But another one of his problems was that he didn't want to kiss someone in the middle of a club whilst he was really drunk. He'd saved his first kiss this long, he wanted to give it someone special, to someone who deserved it. Not some complete stranger in the middle of a dark nightclub that he didn't know the name of. Thomas _really_ didn't want that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooh, hope you liked this chapter! kudos and comments would be very much appreciated!!
> 
> isn't thomas just a lil cute innocent fool? pray for him 
> 
> much love ~ zoe!


	3. Two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt likes to talk and he likes to scare people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loving me that opening pun.

"This place is like a bloody maze."

"Just be glad you never have to go to college then." Minho replied turning sharply around a corner, knowing exactly where they were going. Newt stumbled to a stop and shot an un-amused look at the back of Minho's head before spinning on his heel and quickly following him.

"What's the man's name again?" Minho asked as he came to a halt outside a building. It was red brick, towering above them. There was a large cement plaque on the wall next to them that read 'History Department.'

"Tadgh Daly, third floor, room sixteen." Newt replied, pushing the flaps of his suit jacket aside and placing his hands on his hips. He pressed his tongue against the corner of his lip.

"How're we doing this?"

"He's selling our gear, still in our packaging to under age students and getting students to sell for him. He also hasn't been paying his debts." Newt explained with a casual shrug as if they were discussing the weather.

"Intimidation to pay up or is he dying?"

"Don't turn into Gally." Is all Newt says before he shoves past Minho and steps into the building.

He's done this for as long as he can remember, well that's an exaggeration. He's known this for as long as he can remember. His father is the leader of the biggest gang in the city. He's grown up surrounded by guns and drugs and everything his life still is. He didn't finish his own education. Stayed properly until the end of elementary and then was pulled out to work for his father. People won't suspect a ten year old kid to be dealing drugs on his father's behalf.

Drugs was where Newt preferred to work, generally cleaner, made more money and he got to wear nice suits. It wasn't always as simple at sitting in his nice fancy office, handing out money and drugs and waiting for it all to come back to him. No sometimes things got a little messy, and as the saying goes, if you want something done right do it yourself. So sometimes he got his hands dirty. He killed his first man at thirteen, the man had been unconscious and Newt had sobbed his eyes out and his hands had shaken like a leaf in a thunder storm but he'd pulled the trigger. It got easier after the first one. He still had nightmares, still struggled to sleep, but actually doing it. He'd gotten used to that.

The sound of Newt’s boots hitting each step as he made his way up the staircase echoed around him. They didn’t meet anyone on their way up, the place seemed strangely empty compared to outside. Newt wasn’t nervous, he knew he wasn’t wrong with who they were about to meet or where he was going to be. He never went to do anything unless he was one hundred percent about it, he wasn’t stupid enough to do something on a whim. No, everything was planned and always perfectly executed. He’s never gotten caught and he never will.

Newt came to a halt outside the door of the dealer that had done them wrong. The plaque on the outside of the door read his name in little silver letters. Minho was standing at his shoulder, his eyes flicked to the lettering before locking his eyes on Newt’s. It was a short, silent conversation, one you could only manage after years of working together. Minho pulled the gun that was tucked down the back of his jeans out and Newt smirked.

He cracked his neck and threw the door open, “Mr Moran!” He roared, almost sounding happy rather than angry. There was a young girl sitting in the seat across from Mr Moran’s desk and she shrieked at the intrusion. Newt rolled his eyes at her before he jerked his thumb towards the door.

“Out!” Minho growled, flashing his gun, she whimpered her eyes already filled with tears and she sprang to her feet, ready to flee before Newt lunged forward and latched his hand onto her arm so tight that it looked almost painful.

“You say a thing about this and we’ll find you,” He lifted his other hand and tapped her temple right between her eyes, “And put a bullet right here? Okay?” He smiled at her as if he was talking to a small child before he shoved her harshly out the door and Minho slammed it behind her.

Newt cracked his neck again, licking his lips sharply before he turned on his heel to fix Mr Moran with an unimpressed look. He pushed his hands into his pockets and raised his eyebrows, he then shrugged.

“Were you selling to her too?”

The question was enough to send Mr Moran scrambling to his feet, blubbering out words that made no sense and Newt only sighed, he was bored.

“Shut up.” Minho snapped at him and the man’s mouth snapped shut, his beady eyes ogling the gun that Minho was still clutching at his side.

Newt sniffed, his eyes roaming the overweight, slightly balding man in front of him with a displeased frown. “So firstly you don’t follow our rules and you sell to persons under the age of 18. Then you give it to students and persons under the age of 18 to sell it on, to whoever they want. You also leave it in the packaging we give you, which is literally one of the most basic rules because the packaging is specific to us because we believe in quality but therefore it’s traceable to us. And then you don’t pay your debts? How many broken rules is that? Four, I think it’s four.” He glanced at Minho who nodded in agreement.

“Four broken rules?” Newt grabbed the chair the girl had previously been sitting in and spun it before landing himself on it, leaning his elbows on the back of the chair. “That doesn’t seem like the best idea, especially since you know who I am.”

“I – I – won’t be threatened by a child!” Mr Moran protested, his entire body flush with the back wall of his office as if that was going to help anything.

Newt laughed, a little chuckle that echoed around the otherwise silent room. “Firstly Mr Moran,” He paused to fix the man with a glare, “I’m twenty six, I know dermatologists hate me.” Mr Moran’s eyes widened upon hearing Newt’s age. “And secondly, I wasn’t threatening you. I was just pointing out where you’d gone wrong.”

Mr Moran had nothing to say to that.

“See the thing is,” Newt, suddenly bored of his chair pushed away from it and spun upwards to his feet, “I can’t threaten you, not the way I want to. If I could my good friend Minho here would have three bullets in you already but you wouldn’t be close to dying. He’s good like that. Because you can rat on us, of course you can, it’s a risk we take. But the other thing is,” Newt paused watching as Minho approached the man, who was now shaking, a small pleased smile spread across Newt’s lips as Minho pressed the point of the gun against Mr Moran’s temple. “You won’t say shit!” Newt laughed.

“You won’t say shit,” He repeated grinning, “Because you Mr Moran are terrified of us and you thought you could out smart us because you’re a big fancy professor at a big fancy college. But Mr Moran, you’re not as smart as you think you are, we have people everywhere. Including in your big fancy college. And she informed us of your little stunt, so,” Newt glanced down at his expensive watch, “In about now or so our little birdy will be making a phone call and guess who she’s going to be calling?” Newt slammed his hands on the desk and grinned at him.

“Oh? Not so talkative now then?” Newt shrugged, upturning his lips in the slightest, “Mr Moran she’ll be calling the police and you’ll be arrested and sent to prison because we’ve got a mountain of evidence that will be anonymously submitted against you. And prison is going to be great for you because as I said, we have people everywhere.”

Newt stepped back his eyes wandering the man against before he snorted on an aborted laugh, he pressed his fist against his mouth before he let himself laugh lightly behind it. There was a wet patch slowly growing in Mr Moran’s crotch. “That really is disgusting, and humiliating. I wonder what our thirty two guys who you’ll be dealing with in prison will think about it?”

“It will brighten up their day.” Minho replied, a laughing smile on his face, his gun still pressed against the man’s temple.

Newt grinned at him.

“So,” Newt stepped backwards again, “I think we’ve made ourselves pretty clear. You don’t say a word, to anyone, ever. Or we’ll kill you,” His hand swooped forward and plucked a photo frame of Moran’s desk, “And we’ll kill your wife,” He glanced at the picture and cooed softly, “And your two dear little girls.”

Moran was crying now, blubbering like a little child and Newt could only roll his eyes. He jerked his head at Minho who stepped away from the man and the man fell to his knees.

“Pathetic.” Minho muttered as his passed Newt to get to the door.

“Have fun in prison Mr Moran!” Newt saluted him jollily before he followed Minho out the door and he slammed it hard behind him.

  
////

  
Gally was sitting in the front seat of their black, Cadillac SUV. He had a pair of sunglasses resting on his nose and a frown painted on his lips. He reached out and flicked the button to unlock the car as Newt and Minho arrived.

“How’d it go?” He asked as Newt slid into the passenger side.

“Pissed his pants.” Minho replied. Gally snorted.

“How’s your girlfriend doing?”

“She’s just finished the phone call, said she’s skipping this class and coming to meet us.” Gally replied, pulling his glasses off and tucking them into the collar of his shirt.

“So she wants us to go for coffee and discuss our days so she can wrangle the most expensive kind out of you.” Newt assessed, his elbow propped on the window ledge.

“Exactly.” Gally shrugged.

“Such a sugar daddy.” Minho said from the back.

“She’s a broke college student, and she’s hot, I don’t mind.”

“Yeah you care about her cause she’s hot, we know you’re a big softie Gally don’t try and pretend to us.” Minho replied with a teasing grin. He reached forward and flicked at Gally’s ear just as the other back door was pulled open.

“Hola pendejos.” Brenda sang as she climbed into the car dumping her backpack and hand bag on the ground.

“Pendejos?” Newt shot a look at Gally.

“Jackasses.” He translated.

“Except for you, you’re mi puta.” Brenda said with a grin as she hoisted herself forward to smack a kiss on Gally’s cheek.

“Puta means bitch.” Minho translated happily, proud of his own knowledge.

“Well she’s not wrong then.” Newt concurred.

Gally rolled his eyes as Brenda plopped herself back into the backseat, silence fell between the four of them for a moment before Brenda stretched backwards, “So, coffee?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gally being Brenda's bitch is my kink.


	4. Three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the super late chapter!! i've been having mental breakdowns over college!! i cri rip. 
> 
> anyways yes i still love my boy newt and recently got two nice comments and decided i couldn't let this fic die so here's another chapter.

Newt didn't even flinch as he fired off the last round of his gun. The kickback rocketed back against his palm, shaking up his arm and into his shoulder but it didn't phase him or throw him off. He simply turned to the next target and pulled the trigger again. One in the head, one in the heart and the last bullet in the balls. A smirked lifted on his lips as the cardboard between the targets legs exploded and ripped from between the cardboard legs of the target. 

He turned again to the last target and went to pull the trigger again only to realise his round was empty. He scowled at the inconvenience and pulled the round out tossing it to the ground and kicking it away from him, he pulled another clip from his belt that held three other clips. He slotted it back into the gun in record time and sent off three more bullets. 

"Your shooting is clean." 

Newt didn't jump at his surprise visitor. He just nodded, his lips pulling tight and grim before he turned his attention to the higher up targets that were dangling from the ceiling. 

"It's a Saturday, shouldn't you be oh I don't know be out doing something young people do, something fun?" 

"I am." Newt spat, squinting at the furthest target before he shot three bullets into it. 

"This is training."

"Training is for when you're learning," He paused and looked over his shoulder at the greying man who was leaning against the grey brick wall with his arms folded across his chest, "Do I look like I'm learning?" And to prove his point, with his eyes locked on the deep brown eyes of the man in front of him he shot another three bullets, a slow grin spreading across his face as he heard them rip through cardboard. 

"It's in your genes."

Newt snorted, "You haven't shot a gun since I was seven years old." 

"Would I be the man I am today if I couldn't shoot a gun?" 

The man strolled forward, an easy suave enhancing his every step. Newt scowled coldly at him, he could see himself in him. In the way he moved with more confidence than he deserved and with more calmness that should come from a man who's done and seen what he's done. 

"Why don't you give your old man a go?" 

Newt shoved the gun roughly into his father's hand and then stepped away, gesturing widely at the shooting range in front of them.

"Impress me."

And just as Newt had done a moment ago, his father snorted, "Impress you? Still so naive." He shook his head before he turned and emptied the clip into the cardboard targets that were still standing, hitting every mark. He didn't flinch at the sound of the gun, and his shoulder hardly budged at the kickback something Newt still couldn't do. When the clip was empty a slow, sly smile spread across his lips and then he turned to his son. He pressed the gun flat against his chest. 

"Why aren't you with your friends?" 

"Really? I'm not in the mood for a father-son psycho analysis right now." 

"I saw them leave earlier on, all fancied up, and already far too tipsy." His father shrugged, the shoulders of his perfectly fitted grey pin stripe suit lifting too. "Why didn't you tag along with them?" 

Newt pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, irritated with the conversation topic and where he knew it would lead. He flicked his eyes to heaven, deciding to just get it over with. He let out a long sigh before he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a round, grey cement pillar. He lifted his chin to lock his eyes on his fathers.

"It's her birthday today." 

His father, who had been pacing aimlessly stopped, he huffed out a breath before pressing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. "You're still stuck on that?"

"You promised!" Newt exclaimed, pushing himself off the pillar. 

"I spoke to your mother, she said no, there wasn't anything else I could do." 

Newt sneered at him, wiping his hand over his top lip, "You're the most feared criminal in the whole damn city but you took no as an answer from a woman who dumped you after she had your second child?" Newt scoffed dragging his hand through his hair, "She's my baby sister I should be allowed to see her!" 

Newt's father turned on him, rushing forward and shoving his finger against Newt's chest, "She doesn't even know you exist!" He hissed, spit flying against Newt's face, "She doesn't know this world exists, leave it that way."

Newt shoved him hard away from him, fuming, he opened his mouth to argue but the door to the shooting range flew open and his mouth snapped shut.  
One of his father’s henchmen, Clint, was standing at the door. He was dressed in a plain grey suit, there were ray bans resting on his nose and his arms were crossed in front of his chest. 

“Sir, the shipment has arrived.” 

Newt scowled, his lips turning up in a snarl. 

"Leave us Clint." Newt's father commanded but Newt shook his head.

"Just fuck off all right?" Newt spat at his father and he shoved passed him and towards the door where Clint was quickly moving out of his way. 

"Where the hell are you going?"

"Out, and I'm using a company card."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> company card meaning that he would be spending gang money on lots of alochol and other things
> 
> this chapter is short, so apologies for that, i'm just really struggling with all kinds of writing recently (fanfics and original stuff im working on) but i needed to get something out there so here you go! hope you dont hate it!
> 
> much love ~~ zoe

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: mrsnotasheeep  
> twitter: mrsnotasheep 
> 
> thank u for reading!! kudos&comments appreciated.


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